Fallout: The Outcast
by DiscipleShan
Summary: Our mysterious hero is caught in a struggle between light and dark, life and death, love and hate. He must choose his path.


**Author's Note: Hi, everybody! This is my first attempt at a Fallout FanFic! I very much look forward to expand upon what is already here! Remember to comment and let me know what you think!**

**Prologue**

I pull the slide back on the 10mm pistol and eject its mag. With a quick series of motions I strip it down to its bare mechanisms and begin slathering it with homemade gun-grease. I look up from my routine gun cleaning and take note of my surroundings.

The stricken landscape of the Capitol Wasteland darkens as night approaches. Shadows from husks of buildings are drawn out as my breath becomes crystalline. I take a moment to stoke my small fire as a shiver takes hold of my bones. The odd crack of rifle fire and squeals of mutant predators echo across the bleak expanse. For either raider or animal to catch sight of my fire it would be potentially fatal.

After hours of walking through ghoul infested sewers and Super Mutant packed ruins, it had come time to settle in. For this cold night I chose a boarded up bus-stop booth surrounded on all sides by wreckage of cars and building rubble. Finding it had been a happy accident. The shelter provides visual security and a strange hominess. When I came upon it, the sun was just beginning to sink. But it wasn't a location I was willing to pass up. As hidden as it is, I might get a solid nights rest since I left home.

My stomach grumbles as I finish my nightly ritual. I pull my pack form the corner of the shelter and retrieve some food in my travels. I happened upon a dead man's stash a couple of days ago and didn't hesitate to loot the poor bastard. I rustle through my bag being picky as to my meal this evening. It is a rare luxury to be so picky. I choose a Salisbury steak.

I tear open the box and the resulting tin within it and dig into the 200-year-old meat. Best served cold in my opinion. I pull my jacket tighter and scoot closer to the fire. The sun dipped below the buildings now. It would be soon the fire would need extinguished and my wooly blankets sitting next to the fire be utilized.

With a stifled belch I finish the Salisbury steak and sigh. The family size meal was satisfying, but I probably should have saved some for the morning. Screw it. Today had been an especially trying day. I had burned through half my stock of 10mm ammunition while pushing through a horde of feral ghouls in the metro. I found myself foolishly surrounded atop an over-turned train car. It had only been when a Super Mutant patrol happened to enter that section of subway tunnel that my chance to escape opened up.

The ghouls wouldn't have been the end of me. No, they were an obstacle, but nothing I couldn't handle. The mutants sped the process up though. They were the unlucky victims of 10mm fire as well. A chance to strike the freaks was too good to pass up. An unwise decision for my ammo count, but satisfying nonetheless. It was-

_Splish! Splish-splish!_

Plasma rifle fire.

Close.

I kick the small fire and bat away the embers with the blankets. Without the fire, the booth became pitch dark. I side a mag into my freshly greased pistol and rack it as quietly as possible and begin listening.

Multiple heavy boots crunch gravel beneath them as they march toward my position. Lying flat, I glance under the boards of the booth and watch as black armored feet trod past. I wait until the crunch of gravel moves several meters away before taking a full breath. In the distance an odd clapping of sorts permeates the air. I roll under the gap in the boards and bring myself to a crouch behind a car. I peak over and spot nothing in the immediate area.

I holster my pistol under my arm as I move around the husk and climb a mound of rubble. I slowly peak over the edge of the mound and spot the heavy-footed perpetrators. A formation of large black figures cut the darkness, standing as holes in the dusk light. Each figure holds a weapon with a neon green glow. They approach a campsite of unaware travelers.

The group is large enough not to fear raiders or animals. But the approaching threat may be too much for these folks. I was lucky. I was close enough to the plasma fire to hear it. These people were too far away. If these buildings were whole constructions it would have amplified the sound, but the rubble of DC's ruins muffled it instead.

The clearing the travelers had settled in was probably a green space for picnics before the Great War. It was now providing the dark figures with enough girth the surround the campsite. Damn…

I know what is going to happen. I have seen it over and over again. Mass killings of mere Wastelanders for - what appears to be - without reason. But a more sinister purpose than random murder is to meet these travelers. Genocide is at their doorstep, and like a tragic holovid, I can't look away.

The void figures halt as they reach their ambush positions. I inwardly cringe as I fight the urge to call out and warn them. I can't sacrifice my position though. And what good would it really do them?

The first stream of plasma slides from their weapons. The crackling glob collides with its victim, cooking the figure to a glowing radioactive mush. Screams erupt from the campsite as well as returning gunfire. Several figures attempt to flee but are cut down… except for one.

A female figure runs hard from the attackers. Two of the ominous figures break away from the slaughter to pursue. I could take two.

I sigh. It's a desperate thought. A heroic folly that would ultimately amount to my own end. And yet I am already moving to the next set of cover. Hopefully they'll walk past us as we hide if I can get to her before they do.

I quickly examine my surroundings and spot a divot in the earth covered by a piece of sheet metal. I make a dash for it. I roll under the sheet and am met with resistance from its previous tenants. I evict the skeleton. Hopefully my fate is filled with more fortune than that poor bastard.

I settle and prep for the girl to come closer. I wait. I can hear her feet drawing closer, and desperate gasps grow more prominent. I wait too long. She runs past as I lift the sheet of metal to beckon her in. I curse and leap from my hole to grab her.

In three strides I grip her shoulder and place my hand over her mouth as I whip her around, forcing her into a crouch. She lets out small yelp and struggles for a moment, but then follows my lead. Without sparing a moment we slide back into the divot and I pull the metal over our heads. Sliding into the divot proves to be a poor decision.

The heavy plod of booted feet now approach in earnest. They move past but one slows to a stop not far from our position. I unholster my pistol slowly. Though my breath is shallow, I take the dust into my lungs causing them to burn. I try to stifle the cough, but my lungs fails me. I cough.

A long second passes as I pray it wasn't heard over the gunfire in the distance. Then I realize there isn't any gunfire in the distance. Heavy steps make their way over to our hiding spot. I ready myself. This is it.

I spring out from cover and aim for the head of the demonic presence. I release a volley of shots into the armored head. Several shots bounce off the metal construct, but one gets in through the glass eyepiece. The mass before me crumples. It all happened in the matter of less than two seconds. But it's not over.

The second target turns and lets off two shots. The plasma bolts fly overhead with inches to spare as I duck. I leap for the dead body and pull its weapon loose. Three more shots fly my direction. I lie flat and let the bolts hit my armored cover.

I mount the repurposed plasma rifle over the bodies' shoulder and fire three shots. The neon bolts collide with the demon, sizzling away its armor. The demon lets out a hellacious scream as the plasma rounds melt its skin. I fire another round and end it. The figure drops into a pile of steaming armor and green goo.

I don't spare a moment. I stand up and pull the girl from her sheet metal cover and begin to run. I stop only to get the other rifle and put it in the arms of the girl. Mentally, I hesitate in our direction as I remember my pack back in the bus booth, but it's too late. I can come back for it.

After running through ruins for about ten minutes we stop. We take shelter in the remnants of a butcher's shop cooler.

After a period of quiet and our breath calms, I dare speak. "Are you injured?" She shakes her head no. Another moment of quiet passes. Then she speaks.

"Who the fuck were they?!" I swallow the bulge in my throat that formed as she said that.

"The Enclave."


End file.
